


So Perfectly Impure

by thymelord



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Consensual Non-Consent, Incest, Infidelity, M/M, Rape Fantasy, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24202924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thymelord/pseuds/thymelord
Summary: Dirk Strider is back with the love of his life, Jake Crocker.So why can't he stop thinking about Jake's younger brother, John?(READ THE TAGS this one went off the fuckin rails)
Relationships: Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider/John Egbert, Dirk Strider/Jake English, Jake English/John Egbert, John Egbert/Dirk Strider, John Egbert/Jake English/Dirk Strider
Kudos: 53





	So Perfectly Impure

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song [scars by birdeatsbaby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mDLjRFPppj4) which is the most overrated band ever and you should listen to the song RIGHT NOW
> 
> also this wasn't supposed to be so fucking depraved but my john muse just went absolutely batshit feral. i'm blaming the quarantine, again. 
> 
> also jake and john are brothers and their surname is crocker because That's Just How It Be

After years of pining, Dirk Strider is back with the guy of his dreams.

So why can he only think about railing his little brother?

Last night, as Dirk was fucking Jake with his hand around his throat, he’d nearly said John’s name, managing to correct the “Jo-” to a “Jake” before he was any the wiser.

He’s been careful not to be alone with John; the boy was like a walking aphrodisiac, and he didn’t have a clue. His plan had been working perfectly… until today.

He’s sitting on the couch, eating Doritos and drinking Mountain Dew like the horrific cliché he is when John comes stumbling in. “Jake?”

Dirk feels as though his heart’s about to go into ventricular fibrillation. He stands up, dusting his hands on his pants. “Hey Joh- John!” He rushes over to him, automatically reaching out to grab him. “What _happened?”_ There’s a rip in John’s jeans, and his hands are dirty and covered in scrapes. Dirk helps him to the couch, and he’s suddenly aware that he’s clucking over him like a fucking mother hen, but he can’t bring himself to stop. He grabs the first aid kit from the kitchen, spilling the contents over the floor and searching through it frantically.

“It’s nothing,” says John, although he’s shaking slightly.

“Hold out your hands,” instructs Dirk. John does, and Dirk pours rubbing alcohol on a clean cloth. I’m afraid this is going to sting.”

John nods.

“What happened?” Dirk repeats as he gently takes John’s hands, sweeping the cloth over his wounds.

“I…”

“You can tell me,” says Dirk softly. John bites his lip, inadvertently bringing attention to their plumpness, and Dirk feels his cock stir. Why does he have to be so damn delectable?

“I was mugged,” says John quietly. “They took my cell and wallet.”

“We’ll go to the cops after I’ve finished. Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah. I’m just – shaken.”

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” On an impulse, he ducks his head and places a quick kiss on the top of his head. John’s cheeks burn bright read.

“Thanks, Dirk. F-for taking care of me.”

“Of course.” Dirk looks down, and swallows, his breath hitching slightly. “Uh, can you take off your pants? I need to take a look at your knee.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He complies, and Dirk tries not to look down, he really does, but he can’t help himself, and – oh. Oh fuck. Crocker Jr is hung like a fucking stallion.

A half-hard fucking stallion.

Dirk kneels, hand running up John’s calf before he can stop himself. “Not hit puberty yet, huh?” he smirks, and John’s face becomes even more rubescent.

“What?” he says indignantly.

“Your skin’s smooth as silk.”

“I’m eighteen, of course I can grow body hair! It’s just…” John is carefully not looking at him. “I shave.”

“ _Do_ you?” purrs Dirk. The cut on his knee is small and superficial, crimson against his deep olive skin. He carefully smoothes a band-aid on, and raises his head to find his nose centimetres from the bulge in John’s underwear.

John makes a panicked noise. “I can explain, I – I - ”

Dirk rips off John’s boxers, throws off his shades and wraps his lips around his shaft without saying a word. John gasps, and Dirk looks up to see pure astonishment on John’s face, shot through with desire. He sucks John’s cock as though his life depends on it, as though it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. His tongue is skilled and tactile, and John’s whimpering, hands clenching his thighs. The head of his cock hits the back of Dirk’s throat, and John can’t hold on any longer. “Dirk – I’m going to -” Dirk looks up, locking eyes with him as he shoots down his throat. Dirk swallows, eyes closing in rapture, and then pulls off, immediately fastening his mouth to John’s, letting the pool of cum in his mouth pour into John’s. John makes a muffled exclamation of surprise, but swallows. When Dirk draws away, John’s looking at him as though he’s never seen him before.

“What the fuck,” breathes John.

Dirk’s panting, staring at him. “I’m sorry,” he rasps. “I – I – I just… you’re so fucking… fucking gorgeous…” He licks his lips. “You do something to me, John. I can’t… I just lose control. Completely.”

“What?” whispers John. “But I’m nothing special. I mean, compared to Jake, I’m -”

“You’re perfect,” says Dirk. “You’re a fucking intoxicant. You’re every wet dream I’ve ever had crystallised into one person.”

They stare at each other for a moment longer, Dirk’s eyes a burning amber, and then their lips are colliding, and John’s arms slide around Dirk’s waist, pulling him on top of him. Dirk’s hips grind down against his thigh, and John whines.

“Please,” says John. His eyes are too bright, almost crazed. “I need… I need you. I need your cock, Strider. I…” He swallows. “Can you… can you…”

“Spit it out, Crocker.”

“Rape me.”

For a moment, Dirk’s positive he’s misheard. “What?”

John tilts his chin up, as though daring Dirk to defy him. “ _Rape me.”_

Dirk didn’t think it was possible to get any harder, but he does. “H-how -”

“Roleplay,” says John impatiently. “But make it as real as possible. Please.”

Dirk presses a kiss to John’s neck. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yes,” says John eagerly. “I _need_ it. I’ve fantasised about it so many times – you pinning me down with those strong, muscular arms of yours, forcing my legs apart, driving into me, your hands around my throat… and I’m begging you to stop, but you won’t, you just keep going harder, and harder…”

Dirk’s breath is ragged. “You’ll need a safeword.”

John makes a disappointed noise. “Barbasol.” He suddenly perks up. “Can I say it, and then you ignore it?”

“I don’t…”

“I promise I won’t want you to stop. I just – I need it to feel real.”

“You’re a fucking freak,” says Dirk affectionately. “Well, alright, if you’re _sure.”_

John nods so hard Dirk’s afraid his head might fall off.

“You want me to hurt you? Hit you?”

“Yes. Harder the better. You can do anything to me.”

“Alright. Then let’s begin.” Dirk takes a gulp of Mountain Dew to fortify himself as John puts his pants back on, not bothering with the underwear.

“Hey, John.”

John turns to him. “Dirk! I wasn’t expecting you.” He gives him a guileless smile, and Dirk’s stomach flips; he’s a good actor. A _very_ good actor.

This was going to be delicious.

“I’m afraid Jake’s not home,” says John.

“That’s fine. I’m not here for him.” Dirk’s lips curl slowly upwards. “I’m here for you.”

John blinks. “Me? Why?”

Dirk stalks forward, eyes intent on him. He pounces, throwing John onto the couch and pinning his wrists above his head, never more grateful for the Crockers’ ridiculously large sofa. “Take a guess,” he whispers into John’s ear.

“Dirk?” There’s a note of panic in his voice, and he struggles in Dirk’s grip. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you,” murmurs Dirk, pressing his erection into John’s stomach, who shivers beneath him.

“B-but – my brother - ”

“I don’t care,” growls Dirk, nipping at his neck, and John’s spine arches. “You’re mine, pretty boy.”

“I’m n-not a homosexual,” stutters John. “Please, Dirk, get off - ”

“Oh, I intend to.” Dirk pulls John’s jeans off so hard he hears a seam rip. “Well, well. Not a homosexual, huh?” His finger traces the length of John’s erect cock, and John gives a little whimper. “Didn’t even wear underwear. You were waiting for me, weren’t you?”

“N-no…”

“You’re nothing but a little slut,” snarls Dirk, grabbing him by the hips and turning him over.

“No!” yells John as Dirk’s thick fingers spread his buttocks apart. He spits between them, and pauses, wondering if he should get lube, before he remembers what John said; the rougher the better. “Don’t,” sobs John as his fingers breach him. “Don’t, Dirk, don’t, please - ” Dirk pushes into him, and John screams.

“It hurts, Dirk, stop! Di- _irk - ”_ John’s crying is music to his ears, and lust crashes into him like a tsunami. He speeds up, flesh slapping against flesh.

“Dirk – Dirk – oh fuck, _Dirk - ”_ He sounds absolutely wrecked.

“You’re mine,” hisses Dirk, nails raking across John’s skin. “Say it.”

“No!”

“Say it. Say you fucking belong to me, say you’re my whore -”

“I hate you,” cries John. “I hate you, I hate you!”

“Don’t you dare backchat me.” His hand crushes John’s windpipe, only letting go at the very last moment. He gasps for breath, gulping air into his lungs. “You belong to me. Say it.”

“Why are you doing this, Dirk? Please, you’re hurting me, _stop…”_ His words get drowned out by his tears, and he presses his face into the cushion.

“Dirk?” comes a voice from the doorway. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Dirk’s head snaps up, unadulterated terror shooting through him. “Jake,” he croaks, pulling out of John and backing away. “Jake, it’s not what it looks li - ”

He’s cut off when Jake launches himself at him. The fists he’s expecting don’t come; instead, cool metal is pressed against his forehead, and the unmistakeable sound of a safety being disengaged cracks through the silence.

“No!” shouts John. “Put the gun down, Jake.”

He falters, looking over at him. “John? He was… he was -”

“It was roleplay. I wanted it.”

Jake pauses for a moment, and then clicks the safety back on. Dirk lets out a long breath, only to let out a groan of pain as Jake hits him across the face with the butt of the gun. “You made him,” Jake snarls. “I know you did, you and your fetish for control – you couldn’t control me anymore, so you used my brother – my little brother - ”

“No! I swear, it wasn’t, it – it was John’s idea, I swear.”

“I don’t believe you!” roars Jake. “He would never, he’s an innocent, he’s a _kid -”_

“Jake, stop,” said John softly. “He’s telling the truth.”

He looks at him, throat working silently for a moment. “He’s gaslighting you.”

“Do you think I’m a sociopath?” says Dirk, anger surging within him. “Do you really think I’d -”

“Stop fighting!” snaps John. “I’ll prove it.” He gets down from the couch sinuously, hips swaying. He pushes Dirk onto the floor, hand coaxing him back to full turgidity. “Believe me, Jake. He didn’t coerce me.” And John sinks down on Dirk’s cock before he can stop him, taking him straight to the hilt.

Dirk moans, but the sound is drenched in horror. “J-John, what are you _doing -”_

“You didn’t finish,” says John, and begins riding his cock in earnest, throwing his head back.

“We can’t – John –“ His eyes fly to Jake, who’s looking predictably astonished, but his eyes have begun to take on a strange, glazed-over look.

John catches Jake’s eye, and strokes his cock with a deliberate, slow motion, never breaking eye contact, and Jake can’t seem to tear his gaze away. “Jake,” he moans, and Dirk’s hips jerk in shock. “Do you believe me now?”

“You’re fucked up,” whispers Jake, but he’s still staring. “When the devilfucking dickens did my baby brother get so fucked u…” He breaks off as Dirk lets out a sudden cry, hands tightening on John’s hips, creamy liquid running down his cock and pooling at his balls. John pulls off, sitting on the floor and gazing at his brother with ill-disguised hunger, heavy cock bobbing against his stomach.

“You’re not nearly as quiet as you think you are,” says John, hand slowly pumping his cock. “Every fucking night, when I hear you, I imagine it’s me you’re pounding, me you’re making scream. I’ve dreamed of what you’d feel like moving inside me.”

“Now you know,” says Dirk shakily.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Jake chokes.

“Come here, dear brother,” whispers John. “Come on. You know you want to.”

Jake moves forward dreamily, as though his feet are on castors. He reaches out to wrap his hand around John’s shaft. He whimpers, legs twitching, and strokes Jake’s cheek. “Kiss me,” he breathes, and Jake obeys, mouth colliding with his. John’s lips part, tongue sliding against his, and Jake’s hand speeds up.

Dirk whines. His back is flush against the wall, legs sprawled, watching them through heavy-lidded eyes.

John shudders, and releases his cum over Jake’s shirt, marring the green skull with translucent white. John’s hand slides up the shirt, tweaking Jake’s nipple. He gives a sharp intake of breath, and John rubs his hand between his legs until he climaxes with a moan. “There’s something about coming in clothes that really gets me,” smirks John, kissing the tender skin beneath Jake’s ear. “Don’t worry. Next time you can come in me.” He nips at his earlobe. “Preferably with Dirk coming in the other end.”

Jake only looks at him wordlessly, helplessly. “Gad-fucking-zooks,” he finally manages to get out.


End file.
